Bullet with Butterfly Wings
by chairdesklamp
Summary: Grimmichi. Ichigo and Grimmjow discuss the lack of communication in the Kurosaki household over cigarettes and grunge rock on too-loud headphones. Underage smoking, which is a bad idea IRL. Also, spot the hidden song title in the dialogue! KSH verse-see profile.


"Then someone will say 'what is lost can never be saved'" -"Bullet With Butterfly Wings," Smashing Pumpkins

"Does Issin know you're doing that?" Ichigo took off his blaring headphones and glared at Grimmjow as he exhaled the smoke off to the side.

He laid the tape player still playing on the stone steps of the back porch—the home side of the first floor-next to where he sat on one side, motioning with his head toward the empty spot at the other. "I don't think even my dad's that obtuse. I'm stealing his cigarettes." Looking befuddled, Grimmjow accepted the offer of the seat.

"He said he only smokes once a year..."

"He also acted like he didn't see ghosts until last year."

"Fair enough."

"He smokes whenever he thinks of her."

Grimmjow pulled out a cigarette himself to join his boyfriend. The music on the headphones shifted from Japanese glam-grunge to the American grunge that inspired it; both occupants of the slightly over-damp yard enjoying the backing it provided to the mood as the back door light flickered once more before dying.

"It's not like he said anything," Ichigo shook his head, "I just figured it out over the years."

"After the talk I had with him last night," Grimmjow ruefully shook his head, continuing to dribble smoke from his lips, "the last feeling I get from him would be a lack of care toward any of you..."

Ichigo shook his head vehemently, a sad smile on his lips as he removed the cigarette. "No, no, nothing like that," _nothing like what happened to you_ went unspoken, "Just, one day, mum died, and now...we just don't talk anymore."

Grimmjow turned his hand closest to Ichigo palm up, and Ichigo slipped his hand gently into Grimmjow's. Reaching behind a hedge just behind the tape player with his other hand, he retrieved an ashtray with a few ground-down butts already in it, took the spent cigarette from his lips, dotted it out and laid it alongside the others roughly intact in its original shape.

He handed it off to Grimmjow, whose preferred method was to drop the cherry in the soggy dirt rather than the bowl of flammables, took it back, reached over the cassette player and hid it back in the hedge. It was a bit of work with a hand each joined, but both had been through things far more strenous-one while missing an arm entirely.

It was Grimmjow who broke the new relative silence, "When I...asked for his approval of us...well, after he assured me he'd nail my balls to my eyes if I hurt you-which I'd rather have over him not caring-and I understand...I, uh, well...Wonderweiss and all...to say the least, I want to..."

Grimmjow sighed, scouring his face with his free hand . It'd been decades since it was safe to say what he felt, and needed to, besides. "You...It's not fair that the world should ask you to be their rock. I've said this before, but I want to even out that score a bit more. And I'd like to meet Chad as well, on that subject."

Ichigo laid his head on Grimmjow's shoulder, "It's all new material, so we'll sound right crap, but meet me at school after we're let out and I'll take you to rehearsal. We're more straight up hard rock than punk, though."

Grimmjow shrugged, "I'm flexible."

Ichigo motioned upward with his head and they stood, Grimmjow letting out a slight groan being unused to the gigai. He turned and raised an open palm to the door—Ichigo abruptly grabbing his wrist. Grimmjow's mouth snapped open as the realisation hit, "Hey, it's been 22 years since I last lived here. Still getting used to it."

He opened the door, letting Ichigo go through first.

Placing the turned-off Walkman on the sofa, Ichigo turned with a smile, murmuring in the dim light as the rest of the house slept, "I don't think dad would be so much mad as either embarrassingly happy you're strong or gleefully sadistic in making you repair it in an embarrasing way."

Grimmjow groaned, matching lowered volume with Ichigo, "not that I don't care about causing property damage to people who are nice to me, but considering where I'm staying, I really don't need the latter."

Ichigo smirked, "oh, I know. Quite well."

Ichigo rubbed his eyes. For all that he'd been hardened and aged by war, by tyrrany, by death and dying, he was still as vulnerable to exhaustion as anyone else, and while it had been a positive week, it had still been long.

Grimmjow yawned as watching Ichigo reminded him of his own need for rest.

"Lead the way."

Ichigo smirked as he led them up the stairs, "you're behind me then."

Grimmjow reached out and lightly grasped Ichigo's hand, and Ichigo stopped, allowing Grimmjow to catch up to him.

Grimmjow stopped on the stair behind him and gave him a quick peck on his left shoulder blade.

"Yeah, I've got your back."

Ichigo turned carefully, so as to not knock them both down the stairs, "and I yo-augggh."

Grimmjow shook his head as the sweet sentiment was drowned out by a yawn.

"I-"

After succumbing to a yawn himself, he snickered.

"I know...now let's go to sleep."

Ichigo nodded once his assent and led them to his room.


End file.
